Sneak Attack
by burkygirl
Summary: A surprise during Peeta's walk home from the bakery could change everything. A little winter Everlark interlude post-Victory Tour. Written for Day 1 of the Yuletide in Panem: 12 Days of Christmas challenge on Tumblr.


The white powder crunches under Peeta's boots as he trudges up the hill from the bakery to his home in the Victor's Village. He focuses on each step, using the muscles in his good leg to propel his bad leg forward. His heel strikes the ground, followed by his toe. The thick rubber on the soles of his expensive boots holds him securely in place. He takes another step on his good leg and then repeats the process. Relearning to walk in the winter hasn't been easy, but he's making progress. His father had offered to walk home with him, just in case, but he prefers to figure these things out on his own. Plus, if he falls, there is no one to fuss over him, and he prefers that too.

He doesn't relax until he crests the incline and crosses through the gate of the Victor's Village. Finally taking his eyes off his feet, he notices the clouds are even more heavy and grey than when he left town. He hopes Katniss is already home from the woods. The snow is only going to get worse, and she could get stuck out there. If she doesn't get back soon, he'll have to find a way to convince Gale and Haymitch to help him look for her. He frowns a little. She wouldn't be happy about a search party. It would probably undo most of the progress they've made since the Victory Tour, but that's a risk he's prepared to take. She could be hurt and surely three sets of eyes were better than one. Gale knows the woods as well as she does. If they-

The sharp cold of a snowball slaps against the back of Peeta's head like a missile from nowhere, then drops inside the collar of the wool coat the Capitol had provided for the Victory Tour. Icy, wet fingers crawl down his back beneath his shirt. He freezes in place, still as a statue, his Victor's instincts on high alert. Then he hears it.

A high-pitched giggle.

Followed by familiar snort and a whispered 'ssshhh' that Peeta knows all too well.

He scoops what remains of the offending snowball from the back of his neck. It seems he's been worrying about the wrong thing on the way home. He should have been on the alert for a sniper instead. Peeta bends down slowly, forming a snowball in the palm of his leather gloves while he side-eyes the courtyard around him. His head is turned to the right when the next snow bomb hits him in the shoulder. He flicks his gaze to the left and catches a flash of pink dashing behind the shrubbery of the Everdeen house.

He recognizes that jacket. It belongs to a blonde, but he's sure that someone else - a deadly accurate someone - is behind this particular sneak attack.

He is going to need a bigger snowball. More than one probably. He fashions four more and stuffs them in the pockets of his overcoat. Rising quickly, he advances on the house on the other side of the courtyard. He needs to get closer. He's got more range, but no one has better aim than her.

Peeta's arm is cocked behind his head and ready to release his mammoth snowball when he hears her.

"Now, Prim!" The sisters spring from behind the bush and the barrage begins. Peeta's snowball hits Katniss square in the chest, but there's two of them and what appears to be a tidy pile of crystalline missiles. They've hit him with three before his hand even makes it into his pocket.

His next throw catches the pompom on Prim's hat and she squeals, launching another snowball in his direction, but it goes wide. He fires two more at Katniss as she rounds the shrub, a wide smile on her face and a predatory gleam in her eye. She's got a snowball in each fist. He feels a moment's sympathy for her prey and then grins back, tossing his last snowball. It hits her right between the eyes.

She wipes it from her face and her left eyebrow drops as she surveils him. They circle each other slowly. "You're gonna pay for that, Mellark." She tosses one of the snowballs in her hand and then catches it in midair.

"Am I?" he counters innocently.

"Get him, Katniss!" Prim cheers her sister on, throwing what remains of their ammunition at the both of them. Peeta's not sure where they fly. He can't take his eyes off Katniss's glittering grey orbs. He shakes out his shoulders and reminds himself to stay loose. Katniss catches the corner of her lower lip between her teeth and he knows it's time.

With an agility born of years of wrestling with his brothers before he ever stepped on the mat at District 12 High School, Peeta pushes the toes of his good foot into the ground and springs forward, catching Katniss around the waist. She screeches in surprise as he takes them both down into the fluffy snow. His heart does a little backflip when he registers that she's wrapped in his arms. They haven't been this close since the Victory Tour. He just has time to catch the faint scent of lavender and evergreen on her bright red pea coat before she smashes one of her snowballs into the side of his head. His ear burns from the cold and it distracts him long enough for her to escape. She scrambles away on her knees, desperately throwing her last snowball at him as she flees.

"Oh no you don't," he teases, grabbing fistfuls of snow and tossing them in her direction. Katniss is laughing now, and it's a sound heard so infrequently, Peeta never wants it to stop. Prim joins them and they're all scrabbling on the ground, throwing every last flake of snow they can reach. He's soaked and he's freezing, but Katniss's squeals and chuckles are ringing in his ears. He can't remember the last time he was this happy. Was it in the Capitol when she ran toward him on the stage and he thought all of his wishes had been granted?

Finally out of breath and with no snow within his reach, he collapses to the ground. Prim does the same, not far away. He turns his head to see Katniss crawling to her feet, brushing the snow from the jeans she has tucked into a pair of brown boots that stop just below her knees. He holds out a hand.

"Help me up?"

He hears a 'tsk' noise and she shakes her head, but she moves toward him. Her gloved hand wraps around his own. "You should have thought of that," she lectures "before you-"

With a quick tug, she's back on the ground, sprawled on top of him. He hears an 'oof' as the air is expelled from her lungs. She lingers about a second longer than it actually takes her to catch her breath, just long enough for him to lay his hand on her lower back, encouraging her to stay put.

"Hold on for a sec." There are snowflakes in her lashes and her cheeks are bright and rosy. Her eyes flick to his lips. He wonders if she's remembering the last time they were on the ground not far from here. There is no lipstick between them now, no cameras to perform for. Their eyes lock again and he tries to remember to smile. They're friends now. Fiances, but not lovers.

His thumb flicks away a flake of snow when it lands on her cheek. "I've got chocolate and cream, if you wanted…"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he swallows, and starts to sit up. He wonders if he imagines the little flash of disappointment he thinks he sees when she moves. This time, when she holds out her hand, he lets her tug him to his feet. He brushes the snow out of his hair. "There might be some frosted shortbreads over there too."

He's got her now, he can tell. She glances over at her sister.

"Can I bring Prim?"

He's kind of amused by the idea of a 12-year-old bodyguard, after all those nights on the train, but he'd planned on inviting Prim anyway, so he just smiles and nods. "Of course." He's glad he agreed when Prim all but dances across the yard to his front door.

Before long they're all standing on his front porch, stomping the snow from their boots and shaking it from their hair. The house is cool, but not cold, when he opens the door. He'd carefully banked the fires before he left and it won't take long before they're blazing merrily again. Prim warms herself in front of the one in the living room and Katniss follows him into the kitchen. He stirs the coals in the kitchen fireplace, throws on some more kindling and wood and gets that fire crackling as well. He 's got his sleeves pushed up and his face in the refrigerator looking for the cream when Katniss asks if she can help.

He looks up and waves to the pantry. "There's a block of chocolate in there, and a bottle of vanilla. Could you grab them?"

Peeta puts her to work stirring the cream and vanilla he's measured into a pot while he roughly chops the chocolate. The kitchen is quiet except for slap of his blade against the cutting board and the scratch as he scrapes it from the board into the pot. It's her hair that smells so good, he realizes, when he's standing beside her, carefully adding the sugar. It's soft and natural; nothing like the heavy perfumes in the soap in the Capitol.

"So do you just want me to keep stirring it?" Katniss asks.

"Uh, yeah. If you don't mind. It can burn kind of easily." Out of excuses to stand beside her, Peeta turns to put the cutting board and knife on the island. He's plating some cookies when looks out the window over the kitchen sink. As he expected, the snow is falling faster now. "It's getting dark out there, do you need to call your mother?"

Katniss follows his gaze. "No. She's delivering a baby in the Seam. I have no idea when she'll be home. Could be tomorrow if the snow doesn't let up. Later than that even, if the labour is difficult. Normally, she'd take Prim with her to assist, but she thought with the weather, it would be better for her to stay home."

Before he can stop himself, Peeta blurts out an invitation to dinner. She bites her lip as she stares down into the concoction in the pot that is rapidly turning into a smooth, chocolatey liquid while she thinks about it. He grips the countertop behind him while he awaits her answer. He bites his tongue and tries not to push. He knows where that will get him. Alone. In this house. As usual.

"Um, okay."

He can't suppress the grin. "Really? You'll allow it?"

"I'll allow it," she says with a nod and a shy smile that that smooths his nerves in a way that nothing else could. "Is this done?"

He crosses the short distance to where she's peering into the pot. "Looks it. Is it sweet enough, do you think?" She holds the wooden spoon to his mouth and he closes his lips around it. It's perfect, thick and creamy. Just sweet enough to satisfy. He nods.

"It's good," he tells her as he steps back before going in search for the mugs. "We make a good team." He ignores the way Katniss stills behind him and pulls the mugs off the shelf. Setting them beside the stove, he carefully pours out three cups of chocolate and passes Katniss her mug and the cookies. He swipes the other two mugs off the counter. "Let's go introduce Prim to hot chocolate."

They find Prim sitting on the floor in front of the hearth, her toes pointed to the fire. She smiles and sighs. "Doesn't matter how many warm fires I sit in front of, I'll never shake the feeling of being cold."

He doesn't need to look at Katniss to know that she's frowning and feeling guilty over something that was never, ever her fault. He squats down beside Prim and pass her the mug. "This'll help. Katniss and I thought it might be better if you girls stayed here for dinner. Because of the weather. Is that okay with you?"

Prim sniffs the mug and then takes a greedy sip. Her eyes close as she savours the way the velvety beverage slides over her tongue and down her throat. Her toes wiggle and her blue eyes are sparkling when they open. "This is amazing," she breathes. Peeta chuckles. He can't help it. She's adorable. "Sure," she says, answering his question. "Dinner sounds good. What are we having?"

Peeta's eyebrows fly upwards. He has no idea. "Not sure. I've never had dinner guests before. I'll find something."

He stands up and propels back to the kitchen, sipping his hot chocolate along the way. He feels, rather than hears, Katniss follow him. His constant awareness of her presence never ceases to amaze him. He'd blame the Games, but knows it started long before then.

She clears her throat as he opens the fridge and he looks up. Her expression is troubled. "Peeta, we don't have to stay if you-"

"What? No! Please, stay," he implores.

"We can just-"

"No. Katniss. Please, I want you to stay," he begs shamelessly. He doesn't feel a pinch of remorse when she relents.

"Okay, how can I help?"

He peers back down into the fridge and taps on the door as he considers. There's not much in there. Some cheese, some eggs, milk and cream, a little wine that Haymitch left behind one night. Any meat that Katniss had dropped off is frozen solid. He'd just been planning to make a cheese sandwich for dinner. He's already mentally berating himself for not just walking them home in the first place when the power goes out.

Katniss sighs. "What are we going to do now?"

Suddenly, it occurs to him. He grabs the cheese and wine out of the fridge and grins at Katniss.

"I have a plan. This was an old trick of my Dad's. See if you can find a heavy-bottomed pot we can sit on the coals."

By the time Katniss is back, Peeta has grated about half of the large block of cheese into the bowl. He passes that job over to her and pours the leftover wine into the pot before grabbing a smaller bowl and tossing a bit of flour and a pinch of salt into it. Then he begins to slice a loaf of bread into cubes.

"I think I told you that a lot of what we ate growing up was the stale bread that didn't sell in the bakery," he reminds her as the work together. She nods. "Well, sometimes, Dad made something he called fondue, just to make it a little more tolerable." He dumps the bread into yet another bowl and grabs a long wooden spoon and some forks from the drawer. "It was kind of a treat because it takes a lot of cheese, but it's totally worth it.

He picks up the bowl of bread, the utensils and the smaller bowl of flour. Katniss follows him into the living room with the pot and the cheese. Peeta settles the bowls on the hearth before nestling the pot in the coals, away from the flames. Then he returns to the kitchen for the hot chocolate pot to refill their cups.

Before long, they're all lounging in front of the fire. The girls have their backs to the sofa, sipping their drinks. Prim hums contentedly.

"Did you really drink this in the Capitol?"

From his spot by the fire, Peeta looks over at Katniss. He's never sure how much to tell Prim about what they went through. "Just about the only thing in the Capitol I actually liked was the food," he recalls as he stirs the wine in the pot. "And even that sometimes was a little hard to take." He looks over at Katniss again. Her lips are pressed together and he knows they're both thinking about the little pink drinks.

Once the wine is simmering, Peeta begins to add the cheese and the whole room fills with its alluring smell. He stirs as it melts and feels Katniss scoot closer to watch the process. Before long, the cheese is all melted. Peeta adds the flour and salt and continues to stir until a creamy sauce forms. He peeks over at Katniss. She's practically salivating, so he asks Prim to take the first bite, just to get under Katniss's skin.

"What you do," he explains, handing the girl a fork, "is put a piece of bread on the fork, and dip in into the cheese. That's it."

Prim dips the bread in the cheese and then pops it into her mouth. Her eyebrows rise merrily and she makes a happy noise that makes Peeta smile. "Your turn, Katniss."

Katniss snatches up a fork and dunks a hunk of bread into the cheese, swirling it around before bringing it to her mouth. A delighted moan fills the air.

His dick twitches. Clearly, he should have fed cheese to Katniss sooner. "Like it?"

"Mm-hmm," she nods as she chews and swallows. "That's so good, Peeta."

He takes his turn at the pot, stirring the fondue and desperately envisioning anything that will take his mind of the track it's following. The green pus that oozed from his cut when Katniss pulled him out of the mud. His brother Rye's overripe gym socks. His mother's sour face. Once his libido is under control, he dips his own piece of bread into the cheese and takes a delicious bite.

Prim leans forward to stab another piece of bread with her fork. She holds the bread up and examines it. "This feels kind of like a toasting, you know?" She dunks her bread in the pot. "Are you guys going to have one? A toasting, I mean?"

Katniss shoots him a desperate look. He's not quite sure how to rescue her from this one. It's not something they've even talked about. The fact that they're engaged is something they've largely been ignoring since they got off the train, though he's noticed she wears her ring when she's not hunting. He's not sure how much her family knows about their surprise engagement, though he's fairly sure her mother has put it together.

"I don't know," he says. At least it's the truth. Prim's going to be his sister-in-law. It doesn't seem right to lie to her. "They're planning a big Capitol wedding for us."

"But no one in District 12 feels married without a toasting," she protests.

"Prim," Katniss tries to argue, "The people in the Capitol would laugh at a simple toasting. They'd never understand."

"But-"

"I know what you're saying, Prim," interrupts Peeta. "I never imagined getting married without one." He can feel Katniss's eyes on him, even as she stirs her bread through the cheese by the fire. She's probably feeling guilty for their situation. She shouldn't. They're in this together, until the end, whenever that is. "But if Katniss and I have a toasting, it will likely be something we do very quietly. Because we decide we want one. I don't want a camera in my face. Not for that."

Prim's brow furrows as she considers what he's saying. "No, I don't suppose you would."

"It's your turn at the pot, Peeta," Katniss says.

Grateful for the distraction, he pops a bit of bread into the mixture and takes a bite.

"Cheesy," he comments.

"Very cheesy," says Prim with a grin, dipping another piece of bread.

"You're both cheeseballs," says Katniss, rolling her eyes, which makes Peeta laugh and start telling stories about him and his brothers; a flour fight in the kitchen, covering for them when they snuck out to meet a girl, stealing cookies when their mother wasn't looking. The bread and cheese soon disappear, but they keep talking. Katniss, he discovers, can do uncanny impersonation of Effie Trinket, so he decides to horrify her with what he overheard going on between Effie and Haymitch while he was wandering the train in the middle of the night.

Katniss throws herself to the floor, her hands over her face. "I don't know whose standards are lower," she groans.

Peeta drops back beside her."Effie's. Definitely Effie's." When she lowers her hands and meets his gaze, his hand creeps across the rug to carefully stroke her pinkie finger with his own. He pretends not to notice when she hooks them together.

They watch the fire in silence for awhile, and the next time he thinks to look at Prim, she's asleep. He nudges Katniss and she sits up with a sigh. "I guess we stayed too long. I should probably get her home."

Peeta rises to get their coats, but when he looks out the door, he realizes the storm has only

gotten worse and there are still no lights on at the Everdeen's. He puts their coats back on the hook and returns to the living room.

"Katniss, it's awful out there and there's no way your mother will be home tonight. I've got a house full of empty beds. Why don't you just stay here?"

She bites her lip. "I'd have to wake up Prim anyway. I might as well take her home."

"No need." He scoops Prim up off the rug. She's weighs nothing compared to the bags of flour he is used to. He nods at the stairway. "Go on up."

Katniss's hips sway as she climbs the staircase, leading the way into the dark hallway at the top of the stairs. "This is her room at home," she whispers as she reaches for the knob.

"My studio," he explains and lifts his chin to suggest she carry on down the hall. Katniss nods in understanding and slips further into the dim, opening the next door. The comfortable bed is only steps away and he waits as she pulls back the covers. They tuck Prim between the sheets and slip out the door.

"I can start a fire in there if you think the two of you will be cold," he tells Katniss on the way back downstairs.

She startles and then clears her throat. "Um, I can do that, I guess, if we need it."

He throws a couple of new logs on the fire and then settles down on the couch. Katniss cuddles beside him, bringing her feet up beside her just like she did on Caesar Flickerman's couch. He pulls a warm blanket off the back of the couch and tucks it in their laps before putting his arm around her shoulders. She curls even closer, laying her head against his chest.

"Thanks for coming over, Katniss. I'm sorry you're stuck here."

"Peeta, if we really needed to get home, we could." He knows that tone of voice. It's usually accompanied by an eye roll. Her palm slides across his breast bone. Her diamond ring catches the flame and winks briefly."We're better off here."

She's with him because she wants to be. He lets the idea sink in slowly, enjoying the way it makes his heart stutter. When he buries his face in her hair, he breathes in the sweet scent he was enjoying earlier. He's afraid to say anything in case he breaks the spell that seems to have come over her. After another few minutes, Katniss pipes up. "Do you think it will be like this? Cooking dinner together, sitting by the fire? You know, after?"

She means the wedding. "It can be," he says, playing with the ring on her finger. "This might not be the way I wanted it to happen, but I'm never gonna complain about holding you, Katniss."

"Tell me about it - what you wanted."

That gives him pause. "Really? You want to know?" When she nods, he shifts on the couch to draw her more firmly into his arms and wonders if she feels it too; the way the storm outside has made the world shrink down to just the two of them. Kind of like the cave.

"Before or after the reaping?" The way she's settled her head on his chest has left the column of her neck exposed. He strokes it lightly with his thumb, from just below her jaw to her collarbone while he waits for her to answer.

"Before." It comes out a little strangled, like she'd been trying not to say it but it slipped out anyway. He tries not to grin about the fact that she's at least a tiny bit curious about what they could have been like if not for the Games.

"Well, I'd been trying forever to find away to speak to you," he recounts as he weaves the end of her braid through his fingers. "I kept hoping we'd get paired for a project at school, or maybe I'd find a way to start a conversation with you when you came to trade by yourself. But I'd given myself a deadline."

She looks up at him, an amused smile playing about her lips. "You had, huh?"

He presses his lips to her forehead and when she doesn't pull away, shifts their position again so that his prosthetic leg is stretched out along the back of the couch and Katniss nests between his legs, her back to his chest. He hugs her to him.

"Yeah," he says as he settles the blanket around them again. "If fate didn't step in before the Harvest Festival, I was going to ask you to dance with me."

Under his chin, her head shakes back and forth. "I wouldn't have."

"Oh, you would have. I was going to be completely charming. You wouldn't have been able to resist me." He ignores the snort. "And the next day, I was going to ask you to take a walk with me. And you would have accepted, because by now you were curious about me. Unless, of course you were disabled because I'd crushed all your toes."

She laughs a little and then lifts his hand from her belly to play with his fingers. "And then what?"

"Ah," he sighs, laying a cheek against the top of her head, weaving a story of how they would fall madly in love, thumbing their noses at the entire district and finding a way to make their Town/Seam romance last. She tries to convince him it would never have worked.

"Sssh," he admonishes. "This is my fantasy; of course it worked. In fact, I think the more outraged people would become, the harder you'd fight to make it work. And then when we finished school, you'd rent a white dress and I'd wear my best shirt and we'd get married. Then we'd go back to our home and have a toasting with the bread I baked for us."

It comes from left field. "Dark bread, with dried fruit and nuts."

"What?"

"Our toasting bread," she mutters when she looks up at him. "That's what it would be, if we had one. That dark loaf with the fruits and the nuts."

She's stolen his breath. She's thought about this? "Katniss?"

She peeks up at him and he's so busy watching her pink tongue slide across her bottom lip that he hardly notices her eyes closing and her inky lashes falling against her cheek. Their lips meet, then part. She takes his bottom lip between her own, and he sighs in relief. He is parched and she is the rain he's been longing for. His hands weave into her hair, cupping her head in his hands, as she clutches at his shirt while their mouths press and cling; as they gasp for air and dive back in.

This is the kiss he's be longing for his entire life, the one he thought he'd experienced in the arena. Now that he knows what it means to kiss her for real, no contrived kiss in front of the cameras will ever be enough. He slips a hand from her hair to bring it around her back, holding her tighter than he ever has before, even when fighting the nightmares.

He turns them so she's pressed down into the couch, their bodies aligned. Hands slide and explore. The curve of her waist is the perfect resting place for his palm. Katniss's fingers feel like tongues of fire as they glide over his back and flex at his hips. Her breath falls in short, jerky pants in his ear as his mouth journeys along her neck and dips into the collar of her sweater. He rucks his shirt up out of his pants, silently begging for her to touch his overheated skin. He feels her hands trace downward, slipping under the hem of his shirt, her fingertips skating along the sensitive flesh just above his pants.

A whimper of longing slips from his lips, and he dares not breathe in case she changes her mind. He can feel the moment of her decision, when she gives in to the urge to touch him, and then the flat of her hand roams upward along his bare skin, skimming over the muscles of his back. A groan sounds from some primal place inside him and he bucks against her. She gasps and grasps his hips.

He's harder than he's ever been in his life. She's felt his erection before; it couldn't be avoided when they were sharing a bed, but nothing like this. He waits, lifting his head to watch her reaction carefully. Her face is flushed, her pupils are wide, but she is not pulling away. Instead, she bites her lip, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from his face. And then she rubs herself against his iron-hard cock.

"Unf. Peeta," she whispers, gyrating upwards again. He meets her this time, grinding down into her softness. She tugs at her sweater where it's jammed between them, pulling it up so the soft skin of their bellies is touching.

Fuck. The feeling of her flesh against his is almost enough to send him spiralling into oblivion, but he's curious, so curious about what she feels like, what she looks like under that sweater. He swallows her gasp the next time their centres collide, reaching up underneath the wool as his hands explore her slender form beneath the bulky fabric, his thumbs tracing along the elastic of her bra and then brushing over the lace covered mounds.

She tears away from his lips as a startled 'oh' escapes from hers when his hands close over her breasts and then tweak the sensitive tips.

"Did you like that?" he murmurs.

She nods frantically, whipping the sweater over her head and tossing it to the floor. His shirt soon follows. Her skin is flushed, a red path meanders down her neck, ending between her breasts, her nipples have hardened into nubs, poking out under the bra. The urge to draw them into his mouth overwhelms him and he lowers his head to suck one between his lips through the lace.

She hisses and threads her fingers through his hair to hold him there, even as their hips continue to move in tandem. He claws at her bra strap, freeing her breast from its hold, only to cup it in his own hands and tease the tight dark peak with his tongue. Her hands move to his lower back to press him against her. It feels so good. Too good.

"Katniss?" He's afraid to ask her where this is going in case she tells him to stop. But he asks her anyway, and her already flushed cheeks get even redder. He cups her face in his right hand and strokes the blush that continues to spread.

"I- don't know," she stammers. "Not…. I'm not…" she shakes her head. "But, I don't want to stop, either. Can we just… this? You know?"

He does know. He nods and kisses the tip of her nose, her chin, her jaw, the hollow of her throat before returning to her lips. She parts her legs to cradle him against her, entwining her legs in his, drawing him closer.

They both heave a deep breath at the contact. His hand returns to her breast and they move together, sucked down a tunnel of mindless need. Lips tangle, teeth clash while he plunders her mouth, seeking pleasure. Giving it. She arches beneath him, clutching him to her, nibbling his jaw, laving and sucking the hollow beneath his ear. Her sharp, pants send shivers down his spine and his balls tighten.

"Unf! Don't stop," she begs. "I need… I mean, I'm almost… I don't know," she groans in frustration.

He wonders what it would feel like to slide his hands inside her pants and touch her. Was she wet? Slick with need for him? A familiar tingle begins at the base of his spine and he surges forward.

"Ah," she grinds out. "Peeta!"

That does it. He presses into her - hard - again and again, as he is overtaken by the power of his climax. She moans and writhes against him, her back arching in surrender.

Her body is still shuddering when he buries his face in her neck, trying to grasp at the wispy ends of his senses. It takes a few tries. Katniss is still lying limply beneath him when he finally stirs.

"Katniss?"

"Mmm?"

"We should get up, go to bed, probably." He sits up, realizing his underwear is a sticky mess. He's got a spot on his pants, but it doesn't appear to have soaked through onto Katniss's jeans. He can be grateful for that at least. He stands and pulls her to her feet, in a hurry to get upstairs before she notices the state he's in. "C'mon. I've got to, ah, get cleaned up."

The fire has burned down to coals and he decides to leave it, turning to go up the stairs. He tugs on Katniss's arm. She still seems a little dazed. "Time for bed, Sweetheart." She lays her head on his shoulder and wraps her arm through his. They climb up the stairs in the dark, stopping at the head of the stairs, outside his room.

He kisses her forehead. "Goodnight, Katniss."

She blinks at him, her silver eyes wide and round. "Could I borrow something to sleep in?"

He leads her into his room. He hasn't done much with the space yet. He spends more of the night in his studio than he does in here. He pulls his pyjamas off a hook on the closet door. "You can use this," he offers, handing over his pyjama shirt. "I usually just sleep in the bottoms with a t-shirt." He pushes his hair back out of his face and clasps the back of his neck. "I'm just gonna get cleaned up." He nods towards the bathroom door. "'Night."

"Okay," she says softly, and turns away. He only knows she's made it down the hall when he hears the door snick closed.

He heads into the bathroom and peels out of his pants and shorts, throwing them into the wash for later. He washes up and slips on the pants and the t-shirt, then brushes his teeth while watching himself in the mirror, the events downstairs playing like a movie in his head. An erotic movie. With Katniss. He wasn't sure what to think. Was she playing some kind of game while they were alone? Was it real? What would happen in the morning when her mother came home?

He spits his toothpaste down the drain and rinses out the toothbrush before going back into his bedroom to crouch by the fireplace and light the fire. When it's blazing merrily, he cracks the window just enough to allow fresh air into the room and crawls onto the four poster bed. Once his prosthesis is off and propped against the bedside table, he pulls up the covers and stares at the ceiling, listening to the flames pop and crack and remembering the heat of Katniss's breath on his neck.

He's just drifting off to sleep when the door to his room opens. The covers lift into the air and Katniss is slipping into bed beside him.

"There's no way I'm sleeping down the hall when you're so close by," she mutters as she wraps her frigid toes around his good leg.

"Won't Prim expect you to sleep with her?"

"Believe me, I'm doing her a favour," she grumbles while she lays her head on his chest. "I think we both could use a night without me screaming the house down."

He has to admit that a solid night's sleep sounds like a good idea to him. "She won't get cold?"

"I lit a fire in there," she replies on a yawn as she settles down. "It will be nice, you know? When we're able to do this without anyone gasping about the impropriety." He says nothing, choosing to stroke her shoulder instead. "I think we can do this, Peeta. Make the best of it, you know."

It's the disappointment that hits him first, but the annoyance is what bubbles out. "Is that what tonight was about? Some kind of experiment?" The question is snarky. He doesn't care. He'd prefer to throw her out of his bed, so she'll have to deal with the tone.

When she rises on her elbow to look at him, her expression is stricken. "No! That was… Her eyes dart past his ear toward the bed post. She licks her lips and then turns her gaze back to him. "That was for us. About us, I mean." She settles her head back on his chest. "I've never done anything like that before." Her voice falls to a whisper. "Not even by myself."

His emotions volley from the lowest low to the highest high, but he's so used to Katniss's effect on him, he hardly notices.

"Me either. With someone else, I mean."

"Good thing," she murmurs. "I don't want to waste an arrow on some Town girl."

"Katniss!" He wants to be shocked she'd say something like that. He should be shocked, but he's not. Instead, he's delighted.

"That's ours," she replies fiercely.

 **He doesn't know what to say to that, so he just hums agreeably and closes his eyes. His last thought before he finally drops off to sleep is that he's never felt more like her fiance then he does at that moment.**


End file.
